The Girl With Bread and Blood
by knightlock
Summary: Katniss and Peeta become inseparable to each other, but are bound by a sinister and supernatural force. Now, they cannot live without one another, literally. Mid Catching Fire, slightly AU, Tim Burton-esque and tonnes of Katniss/Peeta.
1. Chapter 1

_Title: The Girl With Bread and Blood_  
_Category: The Hunger Games_  
_Featured Pairing: Katniss/Peeta_  
_Summary: As Katniss continues to face the angst of who to chose, she is cursed with a far more terrible fate. The lust for blood. Love, vampires and war._

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hunger Games story/characters. _

_During Catching Fire, after the scene with Katniss and Gale in the house in the woods. _

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I look down at the gloves. Anything made in the Capitol? Was that directed at me? Does he think I am now just another product of the Capitol and therefore something untouchable? The unfairness of it all fills me with rage. But it's mixed up with fear over what kind of crazy thing he might do next.

I sink down next to the fire desperate for comfort, to work out my next move. But then again, if my previous motives are anything to go by, comfort is most likely the last think I need. Unless that comfort is provided by Prim, who is so mature and level-headed for her age. I could never neglect Prim's love. She is the only person in the world I would want to be with right now. I want to feel her warmth, stroke her soft golden hair, and laugh carelessly with that rosy cheeked little angel. I wish she could be here, but I couldn't possibly open up to her. About anything. I wouldn't be able to tell her about the uprising; that would just panic her, or upset her, or both. And besides, she wouldn't understand. Sometimes I forget that she is still so young, too young for me to load my burdens and problems onto. Too young to cope with certain things. But she deals so much better with situations than a lot of people, twice her age or more. The way she manages other peoples' injuries and illnesses, so calm and collected, as if every broken limb is as elementary as bandaging a scratch. I could never be like her; I could never do what she does or act in her temperament. I am far too chaotic and impulsive. I barely ever stop to think, not like she does with such intelligence and common sense. And whereas she mends people mentally and physically, I do the exact opposite. We couldn't be more alternative to each other if we tried. And yet, I still adore her.

But never mind the uprising; how would I even mention my plan of running away to her? I couldn't, especially not now when the plan is just a seed that of which has barely been supplied with any sustenance.

The one thing that I'm certain I could discuss with her, is my predicament with Gale and Peeta. She would know exactly what to suggest, exactly how to act. But the thing that I'm frightened of the most, the thing that is restraining me from even inviting the topic of conversation, is that she will know exactly how I feel, even though I don't myself. She will be able to riddle her way into my thoughts and interpret every doubt and uncertain feeling and tell me exactly who I love and want to be with. Except I don't want to be with anyone. Not now, at least. Any romantic relationship is the least of my worries and I couldn't want anything less, even if Finnick Odair himself were on his knees declaring his undying love for me. For now, I wish both Gale and Peeta would disappear off the face of the Earth and not burden me with their interest, so I can just focus on keeping everyone safe and alive. Gale, being my 'best friend' should understand me and what I want. He should be trying to help me protect everyone. He should be trying to protect me, if he really loves me. And how dare he even say those words to me! Did he really expect me to say them back? If there's one thing I've ever shown to Gale in the way I feel about him, it's confusion. I can't understand why he would even think that I would be able to conjure a certain emotion for him just out of the blue. The more I think about it, the angrier I become. I scowl at the fire, feeling the orange flames warm my already heated cheeks. I wish I could just take Prim and my mother and run away, from everything and everyone. I wish that I didn't have anyone else to worry about. That I didn't care about anyone but my immediate family. If only... Then everything would be all the easier. No use in wishing though, nothing can change my fate.

I hear a snap from outside but I don't remove my gaze from the fireplace.  
"What do you want now?" I say with an icy tone to my voice. After my long session of hard thinking, his company is no longer wanted.  
"I came to say sorry." Gale says, stepping into the room but staying as far from me as possible.  
"Not like you to apologise." I say, my eyes still following the movements of the fire. Gale curses below his breath and I can't help but smirk a little. I want him to leave me alone, and if he refuses to do that, then I'll make him feel as sorry as I possibly can.  
"Catnip-"  
"Don't call me that!" I snap, turning my head in his direction. I hate that, the way he's using his little pet name to try and draw affection out of me. It isn't going to work.  
"Katniss... I am sorry, for the way I acted. I was selfish and stupid, and it wasn't fair of me." I raise my eyebrows and let out a little laugh. I've turned around to face him now. He looks uncomfortable; his hands dug deep in his pockets, his head dropped and his body posture sunken. It makes me feel empowered, and I want to laugh right in his face, but I don't.  
"Then why did you do it? Why did you act like that?" I ask, knowing the question will irritate him.  
"I don't know. You just make me feel so... Jealous." He looks up at me, right in the eye. I squirm inside, wanting to leap at him and rip his eyes out for saying something so stupid. For suggesting something so preposterous. But, again, I have to compose myself.  
"And how the hell do I make you jealous?" I spit, feeling nothing but anger. He knows that this whole situation is at the bottom of my pile of concerns, so why is he even tempting the topic back to our mouths?  
"Because you don't care about me as much as you care about him." He says the last word with such a grimace you would have thought that it was venom on his tongue. I launch myself to my feet, my fists clenched and my face red hot with fury.  
"Gale, you know that's not true. You know that I don't know how I feel, about either of you."  
"Then, please, let me help you make up your mind." He spreads out his arms and stares at me with such desperation in his eyes. I feel my anger begin to melt away and I hate myself for it. But those eyes, staring straight into my soul, pleading me to accept his embrace. I take a step toward him, my conscience instructing me to stop, to just turn him away until I have a clearer head, but my feet carry me to him, and then I'm in his arms. He sighs deeply, burying his face in my shoulder, tightening his grip around me. I stiffen, and my arms stay glued to my sides. Why is he doing this? Or more importantly, why am I letting him? He takes another deep breath and it feels as though his hold of me is becoming increasingly firmer, and soon I have no other choice but to wind my skinny arms around his torso. I can almost feel his obvious smile radiating through my skull.

After what feels like a lifetime, I feel his grip loosen a little and I seize the opportunity to break away from him. He just stares down at me with that same gooey eyed expression he had before and I just can't bare the silence anymore.  
"What?" I say irritably, trying to look as uncomfortable as possible. Gale just shrugs, and resumes his doe-eyed fixation on me. What has gotten into him? He's acting like some love-sick puppy, begging me to accept him. It's driving me crazy, what does he expect me to do? I avert my gaze to the floor, shifting uncomfortably under the intensity of his stare. I have no idea what to say. Usually conversation flows so easily between us, but this is becoming painful.

I'm just about to say something, though I'm not entirely sure what, when Gale lunges forward to embrace me again, only this time he grabs hold of my shoulders with such a force that it almost knocks me back. But he pulls me into him. I'm too taken aback by his sudden actions that I can't pull away from him so I stand limply like a rag doll, controlled by his hold on me. It's silent for just a split second, before Gale's lips are glued tightly to mine. My body feels as though it's made of stone and I can't respond to his kiss, and nor do I want to. After everything I have thought about, I was certain that this was the last thing I wanted right now, but now he's with me again, I'm plummeted into the icy depths of confusion. Could it be Gale that I want? Gale that I need so badly? I let him kiss me; his eyes are closed and he looks like he is in pure bliss. But I don't kiss him, and I don't feel anything, complete indifference. No. This is not what I want. Not him. Not now. And how dare him.

My fury bubbles up inside me like a seething furnace. This has to stop; I will not let it happen again. I sink my teeth into his lip and push him away with as much force as I can manage. He doubles over in front of me, clutching his mouth and wincing in pain. I recognize the repulsive taste of blood in my mouth and I wipe it away with my sleeve. It comes away soaked dark red. Gale tries the same, only more blood pours from the wound that I've created. I have ripped off a huge chunk of flesh from his bottom lip. He spends a long time trying to scrape up his dignity, wiping the masses of blood away with his sleeves, battling away the urge not to spill tears. Then he reaches to his lip to feel his wound, caressing his fingers across it in slow, gentle, movements. His eyes widen in fright and he looks up at me, trying to form words with his mangled and bloody mouth.  
"Katniss, why would you" he begins, his speech is fragmented and trembling, it's as if it's all too much for him to cope with. I'm not surprised. I feel powerful, with no hint of remorse for my vicious turn on him. He deserved it. He should have seen it coming. I slowly stride closer to him, and relish in the sight of him cowering below me.  
"That really hurt-" he says in a strangled voice, but I cut him off.  
"Good." He looks devastated, terrified, every pathetic emotion you thought possible mingling across his brow. His eyes are fixed on me, as though he's reaching deep into my mind for a reason. But I won't give him one. He should already know it.

I take one final look at him, knelt on the ground, holding himself together with a blood soaked chin. Then I turn and run. I run as fast as my legs will carry me, deep into the darkening woods. The night is approaching with haste, engulfing the trees and the ground with it, but I keep running. A thousand thoughts are flicking through my brain, causing me to grimace and clutch my head. Images of my mother and Prim's dead bodies, broken and scalded, laying in a mass of black rubble. Of District 12 aflame, taking the citizens with its own demise. And of Gale, standing above it all, with his torn lip and a look of only hatred in his eyes. What have I done? I've turned away my longest and most loyal ally. My legs buckle beneath me and I crash to the ground, landing in a heap of powdery snow, which became much deeper as I moved further into the woods. I have no idea where I am, or how far I've gone. But I know that my location is treacherous, no one should ever wonder too far into the forest. Especially not in the dark. I sit up and squint to take in my surroundings; all I see are trees and snow. Of course. I'll never find my way back now; it's far too dark to differentiate a path back from utter wilderness. I would end up walking around in circles and getting myself even more lost, and then where would I be? My best option is to sleep the night through and return home in the morning. They'll worry about me, of course. Perhaps they'll send out a search party. I don't know what they'll think, but they will have to wait until tomorrow. I am definitely not risking moving. I huddle up against a tree, which provides me with a meagre amount of shelter. But I suppose it will suffice for tonight.

My eyes are just growing heavier, when a sound catches my attention. Its distance at first, but it's increasingly growing louder. The unmistakable sound of footsteps. Someone is running, and in my direction. I don't dare move. I have no idea what kind of outlaws lurk this deep in the forest. For all I know, they could be dangerous. And I am in no fit state for a confrontation with a potentially dangerous person. I wish I had my bow, just for protection. If it came to it, and this person was armed, blood thirsty, or worse, then at least I would have a chance of surviving. I catch a glimpse of the source of the footsteps. Just a shadow, moving quickly amongst the trees. I narrow my eyes, in hope of a better view of them, just to see who it is. But I see something I'd rather not. The shadow is moving faster than is humanly possible, and appears to be leaping, rather than running. It's hunched, and every now and then it flings its arms into the air, and I catch sight of its long, claw like fingers. My heart is pounding against my chest, my breathing becoming more ragged with every palpitation. It's heading toward me, and fast. If it spots sight of me, I have no chance. I'm dead for certain. So I just stay as still as I can, watching it's movements across the trees. But then it's gone. It was there one minute, darting from one tree to another, about 20 metres from where I am. But now there is no sign of it, whatsoever. No sound, no nothing. It makes me all the more terrified. I'd rather have it in sight than not be able to see it at all. I can hear nothing, not the footsteps, not a rustle in the trees nor the soft whistling of the wind. Nothing. Dead silence. All I can hear is my heavy breath. All I can feel is the rapid beating of my heart encased in my ribcage. All I can see is the gleaming white snow before me, which impairs my vision slightly. Then it happens all at once. My body is pinned against the tree by its knifelike fingers which are burrowing their way through my shoulders. I try to fight it off, but it's as if it has the strength of ten or more men. I can do nothing but squirm and scream under its force. I look at it in the face, and am greeted with a sight that will haunt me for as long as I live. A face as white as the snow surrounding, splattered with red. Eyes hollow and empty, blank, no pupils or anything. And the mouth, with teeth so huge and sharp they stick through the creature's lips and can't be kept inside. Other than its face, the rest of the creature is blank. As if it was in the process of being drawn, but the artist forgot to finish it. It's naked and bald. It stares down at me, snarling and sniffing, its face at a close proximity with mine. It smells foul, a rotten stink coming off its breath, and the iron like stench of blood from its red stained teeth. I scream so shrilly in hope it'll scare the creature off, but it doesn't move. It just snarls more, low and loud. When I realise that the screaming isn't going to work, I stop. Silence. The creature scans me, it's growling has stopped, it's as though it's weighing out its options. Whether to kill me or leave me be. A tiny dash of hope occupies my mind; that I might live to tell the tale. I'm still glued to the tree, but I'm still, not moving and not screaming. Just breathing slowly and keeping a steady eye contact with it. It blinks at me and releases its grip a little, and I sigh in relief. It's going to let me go.

But then it happens in a flash. The creature opens its mouth, which could easily fit my head into, its great teeth spreading out and preparing to clamp onto my neck. I let out a blood curdling scream, and struggle in its grip, trying all I can to escape. But it's too late. The monsters teeth find their way to my neck and I feel a sharp and terrible pain. In the distance I hear someone call my name but they can't help me now. I slip away into the black hole, spiralling into death.

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_Don't know whether to continue or not. 5+ reviews for next chapter!_


	2. Chapter 2

I'm as cold and as still as stone. As far as I'm concerned, I am stone. I can feel nothing, no emotions, no feelings, no pain. It's as if all the life has been sucked out of me, everything I've ever felt drained from my soul and segregated from me permanently. It's so dark. So empty. I'm dead, I know it. What else could it be? I can't remember anything though, just the feeling of slipping away into darkness with a searing pain in my neck. Murdered, I suppose. But, there's no use in thinking about any of it. My existence has been erased from the world, and there's nothing that can change that. Except the impossible...

The warm smell of cinnamon rouses me from sleep. Not dead then. Quite alive, though, strangely, I can still feel no pain. If I can remember the pain so clearly, why isn't it present now? I'm confused; I can't grasp any certain memory of anything. The only thing I'm sure of is where I am, and the familiar smell of baking bread. I try to get out of my bed, but I'm so weak that my knees buckle and I fall to the ground with an almighty thud. Then I'm lifted off of the ground, by strong and comforting arms.  
"You need to rest." Peeta says as he tucks me back under the covers. I shiver and sink down into the warmth.  
"What happened to me, Peeta?" I ask uncertainly, as trying to dig into my mind for an answer has proved impossible.  
"How long have you been awake?" He says, clearly avoiding my choice of topic. I shiver furiously and try to wrap the covers tighter around me to absorb more warmth, but it's no use. My skin is frosty to touch and no amount of blankets or jumpers could heat me. I look up at Peeta with the most bemused expression I can manage. He looks so concerned.  
"Why am I so cold?" I struggle to form words through chattering teeth. He sighs and climbs into bed with me, pulling the covers tightly around us both and pulling me to rest on his chest. But he doesn't say anything, just holds me and tries to warm my skin. I don't understand; why is he here? And where are Prim and my mother?  
"I'm so glad that you're awake, Katniss. Everyone was so scared." He says at last, softly in a whisper.  
"How long was I asleep?" I ask him. It must have been a long time, a few days maybe. I know I was attacked, and badly, but that's the extent to my knowledge. And I want to know more. It must have been a terrible attack for me to have been in a deep sleep for so long.  
"2 months." Peeta says through a quiet and cracking voice. I sit up a little, to look him in the eye. My brow is furrowed and I can't quite believe what he has just said. 2 months? No wonder I thought I was dead. But I have to find out more, there has to be a sensible reason as to why I slept for so long. It must have been terrible, but I'm glad it's over now. What must have felt like a life-time to everyone else, was a few minutes for me. A few minutes of hell.  
"Peeta, please, what happened to me?" I need to know. I will get this information out of him, by any means necessary. He looks uncertain about telling me, as if I won't cope with knowing the truth. But he must know that I have to find out, and that I will eventually. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, letting his thumb linger on the frosty skin of my cheek a little longer than necessary. And he gazes up at me, with those glistening blue eyes. Only they're filled with remorse and despair.  
"You were attacked, in the woods." He begins slowly, blatantly not wanting to continue. But I gesture him to go on. "It was some kind of monster; we don't know what it was yet. It was hideous though, I've had nightmares about it every night since." He looks truly tormented, and he stares at the wall with wide eyes, fighting off memories and visions of the beast that attacked me.  
"It sort of, melted. So we don't have to worry about it anymore." I frown at him. Melted? Surely he can't mean literally... I look at him, puzzled, to show them that I don't understand at all. He clears his throat and goes to continue, running a shaking hand through his scruffy hair.  
"We had a search party out for you. It was late and Gale had come back, but you hadn't. I heard you scream." He pauses for a moment, rubbing his throat, trying to smooth out his speech.  
"When I found you, the creature was latched onto your neck with these gigantic teeth. It didn't see me coming, so I pulled it off of you. Then just like that, it melted and all that was left was a pool of silver liquid." Hearing this, I'm glad I didn't witness the whole thing. Even though my life was on the lines, I would rather die than see something that has quite clearly caused Peeta a lot of terror.  
"Do you know what it was?" I say, with a soothing tone. I place a hand gently on his cheek and his muscles seem to relax a little.  
"No," he says and shakes his head, "everyone's still trying to find out."  
"Why aren't you with them?"  
"You screamed every time I left." What? I screamed, in a deep and lengthily sleep? I can't be too sure whether he really means that or not.  
"I don't understand any of this, Peeta."  
"Neither do I." Again, I frown at him, and cock my head a little. If he doesn't understand, how can I take anything that he says as truth.  
"Katniss, you shouldn't be here." His voice is shaking, and tears are welling up in his perfect eyes.  
"What?" I ask, in even more bemusement than before.  
"You shouldn't be here." He repeats as the tears begin to spill. "You were dead when we found you."

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_Sorry it's short, just a clearing chapter really. The next will be better, promise!_

_Once again, 5+ reviews for the next chapter, if that's all right!_


	3. Chapter 3

Right there and then, my life seemed to flash before my eyes. Everything that has ever happened to me, every emotion that I have ever felt, every tear that I have ever shed. I can even remember my attack; now it is as clear to me as if it were happening currently. I remember the monster that attacked me, with it's great knife-like teeth and empty eyes. I remember it biting into my neck and sucking the life out of me. I remember the pain and the fear flooding through me. And I remember what I did to Gale, and I feel awful for it.

Peeta has to shake me out of my daze, and I see that he has been crying; the tear streaks have stained his perfect skin. We stare at each other for a while, Peeta's face lined with fear, mine plain and straight. I can't understand what I am feeling, and why I can't take my eyes away from him. I know now, after my encounter with Gale, that I do not want him. Or at least that's what I think I feel. But Peeta is different; there isn't anything I can object to about him. There isn't anything I hate, nor anything I could turn on him for. He and Gale are so different to each other, so opposite. Gale is so much like me, every personality trait of mine I see reflected in him. The impatience, the arrogance, the selfishness. And I don't think that is what I want. Thinking about it level-headedly, two people with the exact same flaws cannot work well together. I know what I need, who I need, who I want. And it's Peeta. So gentle, loving and generous. So selfless and caring, everything about him is perfect. I am only seeing this now; I don't know what has bought it on. I suddenly feel as though I need him. As if nothing else in the world matters. But it's stupid. I have to shake off this feeling. From what he's just told me, I shouldn't be able to feel such a strong feeling. I'm dead. Death is nothingness. So I just sit and stare at him until the affections desists. But, of course, they don't. So I just have to ignore them.

Eventually, I tare my eyes away from him. It was difficult. Peeta clears his throat and wipes away the wetness on his cheeks.  
"I guess I should go tell everyone that you're awake." He says wearily, sounding as though what he just said is the last thing he wants to do. I nod, and curl tightly underneath the blankets, wishing he didn't have to leave. This must have been how I felt whenever he left while I was sleeping, because he said that every time he did, I screamed, and terribly. He walks out of the room and glances back at me with a sorrowful expression, promising me that he'll be back soon. I close my eyes and try to drift off to sleep. Sleep feels like the only thing I'm capable of doing. I can't even eat, and I haven't for 2 months. I guess a living corpse doesn't need to eat.

My eyes are just beginning to grow heavy, when I feel an intense stinging in my chest. It causes me to lurch up and clutch the pains source, whimpering as I do. I haven't felt pain in so long; I'd forgotten how awful it is. But there's no reason for it, I've just been lying here. I couldn't have hurt myself. Then my ears begin to ring, like they did when I blew up the careers' resources in the arena. Only ten times as worse, ten times as loud. And then the screaming begins. I've never screamed like it before. With every howl that escapes my mouth I surprise myself, and the pain in both my chest and ears increase. But then everything withdraws from me; my trail of thought, my vision, my hearing, my conciseness. Except I'm still awake, I'm just not in control of my body. All I can feel is that all-too-familiar departure into the void.

I awake once again in the arms of Peeta; I have collapsed onto the floor. I feel so pathetic. I have torn the room apart in my subconscious rampage. All around us are broken mirrors, glass and feathers. And my mother and Prim, looking down at me with sheer terror. I scare them, the thought of that is the worse thought I could ever imagine. But now it's been over taken by a different thought; that if this is what happens when Peeta leaves me, I don't ever want to be a part from him again. I stare up at them with empty eyes; I should be happy to see them, but I'm just scared. I can't feel anything, but fear, and the overwhelming want for Peeta. What has happened to me? Peeta inspects my body for any injuries, whilst my mother and Prim stare down at me with their hands clasped over their mouths and tears looming in their eyes. Then they gasp, and I look down to where Peeta's hand is placed. There is a piece of glass about the size of a kitchen knife that has penetrated deep into my shin. Peeta raises his eyes to mine and gapes at me, almost in total nihilism.  
"Can you not feel that?" He mutters, his trembling hand drifting against the glass in my leg. I shake my head and stare at it, not knowing what to think. I can't feel any pain; the sight of the wound doesn't faze me. He knits his eyebrows together in concentration as he begins to gently tug the glass out of my leg. I don't look away once, but out of the corner of my eye I see Prim bury her face in my mother's chest. It doesn't hurt, not one bit. When he finally eases it out, we're all expecting a river of blood to come gushing out of where it was once stuck. But it doesn't. The wound isn't an angry red like it should be, it's black and empty. It looks like the glass should have come out with a puff of smoke. We all gaze at my leg in disbelief, when the inconceivable happens. A miniscule piece of black thread emerges from one side of the gash, and pierces through the skin on the other side. Then it darts between both sides of the cut, sewing me back together. Faster and more precise than any human hand could ever manage. The thread finishes its work and tucks back inside my leg. Then my skin engulfs the stitches, and any sign that the wound ever existed are extinct.

There's complete silence. I don't think anyone can quite comprehend what just happened. Not even me. I can't bear to think of what's going through their minds. I've become some sort of monster, or mystical being. Whatever I am, it's not human. I'm dreading what manifold abilities I might have. Peeta clears his throat and the silence is broken.  
"Katniss... What was that?" He asks uncertainly. I can only shrug in answer. I don't know what it was myself, so I couldn't answer that even if I wanted to. There are a few worried glances between everyone and Peeta clears his throat again.  
"We've found someone we want to take you to see. He says that he can't do anything to help, but he knows exactly what has happened to you." He tells me, and I'm filled with a mixture of hope and angst. I don't want to know what's wrong with me, but it'll be relieving to find out. For the best, I will go.  
"Will you come with me?" I say to Peeta, trying to portray my sense of hope to him.  
"Of course." He says with a nod, and then he lifts me to my feet. I'm still unstable, and my boney knees knock together as I take slow and timid steps assisted by Peeta's arm around my shoulders. I give a nervous smile to my mother and Prim, who return it and wave us off as we walk cautiously down the road. I can feel the heat of Peeta's eyes the whole way there, while I concentrate on my steps. I want to meet his gaze with my own, but I'm worried that if I occupy my mind with something else, my walking will deteriorate. He's already occupying my mind though, in fact, he is all that occupies my mind.

We arrive at an old, dishevelled looking shack a little further out of the Seam, a part that I'm not particularly used to. Peeta helps me up the steps, which proves more difficult than we contemplated as I can't lift my feet more than an inch off of the ground. Once up the steps, we knock on the peeling wooden door and give each other an anxious glance before it is swung open and a grumpy old man with wispy white whiskers and one eye emerges. He looks me up and down with a snarl.  
"Katniss, I presume." He growls, showing rotten black and few teeth through his pursed lips. I nod, and he steps aside, allowing us to enter in. He gestures for us to sit down on a mouldy sofa in the middle of the room, whilst he takes a more hygienic looking armchair opposite. He taps his foot, as he eyes me with his one, pale blue eye, and a grimace, as if I'm some kind of vermin. Though, I suppose I probably am. He knows what I am, so he has all the right to look at me in disgust. I don't know what I am, however, and that's what we're here to find out.  
"We were hoping you'd be able to tell us what has happened to Katniss, Alban?" Peeta pipes up, edging closer to me and resting his hand on my knee in a protective motion. The old man, who I assume is called Alban, snarls again, this time looking at Peeta's hand on my knee.  
"I can." He says, rubbing the puckered skin that used to be his eye. "What do you remember?" I hesitate for what feels like a life-time. It's difficult conjuring any memories of my attack, but I have a brief idea after what Peeta told me.  
"I was attacked, in the woods. It wasn't human, it was sort of, blank. But it had these gigantic teeth. It was horrible, terrifying. And it pinned me against a tree and bit into my neck. I don't remember anything after that, just that I thought I was dead." I tell him, slowly and carefully. He nods as if it was what he expected.  
"You are dead." He says, like it's no big deal. Like he's going to expect me to just take that statement lightly. But I don't react; I just look at him with a puzzled expression. He huffs, and proceeds to tell me more:  
"The thing that you were attacked by was called a carcass. It's what you are now, only its familiar has been removed from it, so it's turned into a monster, if you will." He informs us calmly, but we don't follow. We blink at him, causing his irritation to rise.  
"Don't you know anything!?" He spits, making us jump back a little. I thought he might have known that we were completely clueless to the whole plight.  
"We know nothing, Alban, that's why we came to see you." Peeta tells him collectively, and Alban seems to calm down a little. He sits back in his chair and strokes the whiskers on his chin and sucks in on his bottom lip, deep in thought. Then he sits forward, clapping his hands together and rocking gently.  
"You, Katniss, are what we call a Dienaid. It's what you would know to be a vampire, but it's seldom along the same context. A Dienaid is, basically, the living dead. You still breathe, talk, sleep, etcetera, but you don't feel happiness. You can only feel hatred, terror, discomfort and anything along those lines, except for toward your familiar. Every Dienaid has a familiar, who they adore, or they become a carcass. So what you came across in the woods was just like you once, but had lost their familiar so had turned into that. Now, when one becomes a carcass, their only aim is to suck souls from people. On the most part, this would kill you. But if the process is interrupted by someone, the carcass melts and the victim takes on their Dienaid genes. The person who interrupts the process becomes their familiar. Are you following?" Peeta and I both gape at Alban. It is all a little too much to take on. I'm 'the living dead'? The thing that attacked me was once like me? It seems all a little farfetched, but I'm going to have to believe it because it's happening to me. But if I'm not able to feel happiness, that's why I greeted Prim and my mother with such indifference. I think I still love them. I must do, I just can't feel it. Alban huffs again, and realises that he'll have to summarise it for us.  
"Katniss is a Dienaid. A Dienaid is a living corpse that can do certain things a human can't. A Dienaid cannot survive without its familiar. If removed from its familiar, the Dienaid will become a carcass, and go in search of souls to steal." That seems a little clearer. Peeta and I both nod simultaneously and Alban smirks a little. Then he stands from his chair and walks over to us, gripping Peeta by his shoulders and lifting him to his feet. He instructs him to go outside, and Peeta complies, glancing fearfully back at me as he goes. We both know what's coming. Alban crosses his arms, and takes a few steps back from me. And that's when my chest begins to burn, just like it did before. And before I know it, I've been through all the symptoms I experience earlier on and I have blacked out. When I awake, Peeta is looking down at me and I notice that the room is in a similar amount of wreckage as mine was. The mouldy sofa has been ripped to shreds and the table in the middle of the room has cracked in two. Alban is lying across from me, with a deep gash in his cheek. I look at him, terrified. Did I do that? He sits up and straightens his shirt, trying his very best to compose himself.  
"This is what happens when you leave her, Peeta." He says, with not a kink in his voice. Peeta looks down at me with shock, and lifts me to my feet, placing me back down on the now ruined sofa.  
"So, I'm her familiar?" Peeta asks.  
"Yes. Because you broke the contact between her and the carcass. You can't leave her, ever, or she'll become one of them."  
"When Peeta left then, did I turn into one of those, things?" I ask shakily, dreading the answer. I can't bear the thought of myself in carcass form. Not just because of its hideous appearance, but because of what I might do to people.  
"Not quite, the one in the woods was an extreme case. It had probably been living without its familiar for a few years. You aren't blank; you have the large teeth and claws, and the white eyes. You're pretty lethal, but you won't be able to suck out a soul just yet." This restores a little bit of hope in me, or at least what I believe to be hope. As long as Peeta doesn't leave me, I should be relatively safe.

There's an air of silence between the three of us, and we're all feeling as uncomfortable as each other. Then Alban slaps his knees and jumps to his feet.  
"I think that's all you need to know for now then!" He says a little too sprightly, and we're ushered to our feet and towards the door.  
"Wait, what can I do that humans can't?" I say, feeling too rushed and hurried. There's still so much I want to know, I feel like we've barely touched the subject. But Alban obviously wants us out.  
"You'll find out in good time, just keep Peeta close." He says, and with that, we're outside and the door has slammed behind us. We look at each other in apprehension and bewilderment. Then Peeta takes my hand and helps me down the stairs. He doesn't let go throughout the entire journey.  
"Peeta, you don't have to hold my hand, I'm not going to run away." I say, taking my hand away from his, but immediately wishing I hadn't. His mood switches, and he suddenly looks full of anger. "What's wrong?" I ask him, keeping at a safe distance but not moving too far away. I don't want to risk another change.  
"This is all wrong." He says, shaking his head vigorously. "You know that I love you, and that I always have. You know that I wanted you to love me, but not because of this. Not because you're doomed to a life with me or to a life as a soul-sucking monster." He looks frantic and distressed. I sigh. It's not like that at all. Ever since my accident, my feelings for Peeta have only become more certain, not enhanced in the slightest. I move back to him, and take his hand in mine. He looks at me and I look at him, and we exchange a genuine smile.  
"Peeta, it's not because of this that I'm staying with you." I tell him. "It's because I would have always chosen you."

* * *

_Again, 5+ reviews for next chapter please! I just want to know that this is worth my time._  
_Also, what would you like to see happen next?_  
_Thanks for reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

For the past couple of weeks I have stayed curled against Peeta, in the safety of his arms. He hasn't left me once. Well, other than for the necessities, but he waits until I am sleeping. But he doesn't go far, he can't. He doesn't eat near me, but I don't mind if he does. I don't need to eat; a living corpse barely needs sustenance. All I really do is sleep, but I guess that's making up for the fact that I should be dead. In my sleep, I am completely still, no dreams, no thoughts running in my mind, just unconsciousness. I've only looked at myself in the mirror once, because the sight disturbed me beyond belief. It's a miracle that Peeta stays by my side because he wants to, rather than out of duty. I am as pale as the snow that still lies in mounds outside, and my eyes are dark, sunken shadows. The colour has been sucked from me; the blush on my cheeks, the tint to my lips, even the grey in my eyes, all replaced with dullness. You can see just about every bone in my body, I'm a skeleton wrapped in blank canvas. I am not a sight to behold.

I have had visitors; Cinna, Effie, Madge, even Gale. But the atmosphere was a little hostile, and we barely spoke. He had to have stitches in his lip, but when I saw that, I felt no hint of remorse in the slightest. He couldn't even look me in the eye. No one knows of my true condition, we have just informed all that I have taken ill, and am not expecting a hasty recovery. Mine and Peeta's wedding has died down a little, thankfully, though I know that President Snow will find a way of bringing everyone's attention back to me. In the eyes of the public, I am on death's door, and that's not the kind of story he wants. He doesn't want everyone pitying me. His girl on fire has been put out. Every day, I receive a ridiculous amount of gifts sent from the people of the Capitol. It's mainly flowers, and any sight of a rose makes my skin crawl, so I give them to my mother to use in medicines. She keeps her distance, and only comes up to see me once a day. I think she's frightened of me. No, I know that she is. How could she not be? I expected Prim to be, too, but she still seems to love me as much as before. She'll come and sit on the end of my bed and tell me all about her day, ask me how I am, offer me food and drink, which I always refuse. Every sentiment I had for her has been diminished, and I don't know how that makes me feel. I suppose it saddens me, but I can't decide whether it is a good thing to feel.

Peeta has not been himself since the day I woke up. He is quiet, barely speaks at all, barely smiles. He's pale, though not as pale as I am, and his eyes looked as though they've had the joy pulled out of them. But I know that he's happy to be with me, and I am happy to be with him. I can only feel happiness when I'm with Peeta. That's one of the conditions of him being my familiar, I suppose. Gale was so bitter when he came to see me, and Peeta wouldn't leave. We couldn't tell him why, he wouldn't believe us and the only way we could prove it would be by Peeta leaving. And we know the consequences of that now. I feel the complete opposite toward Gale than I do to Peeta. I know that for certain now.

Even though I haven't left my bed for days, today I am feeling as though I can make a move and build my strength. Peeta suggests that it might be a good idea, or I might live up to my appearance of a skeleton in motives as well. The steps I take out of bed are precarious and cautious, and my knees are still wobbly and can't hold much weight. Peeta holds my arm, helping to pull me to my feet and then walks me slowly around the room. We take slow and steady steps, and I'm regaining my balance. Then he let's go. I panic at first, my legs feel like they've transformed into jelly beneath me, but Peeta reassures me and I bolt my feet to the floor. I take a few breaths, then begin to walk of my own accord, my footsteps turning into strides. I feel a sense of accomplishment for the first time in such a long while, and Peeta's beaming at me, with that carefree smile I've longed to see for so long. It forces me to return a smile, something I didn't think I could do, and Peeta's eyes glint with happiness. He reaches for me and pulls me into a tight embrace, laughing softly against the nape of my neck.  
"Well done, Katniss. That was great." He says which only makes me smile more. He pulls back from me and stays still with his grip on my shoulders, and then he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His hand glides down to mine and he starts to lead me towards the door. I'm a little wary, I don't know if I'm feeling brave enough to leave my room and I make sure my body language is portraying this to him. He stops and sighs, giving my hand a little squeeze as he does.  
"Don't worry; I'm only taking you to the kitchen." He says. "I want to bake some buns for Prim and your mother. They'd like that, I think." I nod and allow him to take me down to the kitchen, where he places me onto a chair. I watch him, he looks so happy and at peace, because he's doing something that he loves. I can't help but smile a little.

By now, Peeta has made 4 batches of cheese buns, and has laid them out neatly for my mother to find when she returns home. He's sitting across from me, but he's avoiding my eye contact. I can't help but think something is troubling him, I can see it in his face. His brow is knotted in frustration, his gaze is fixed on the floor, and he's chewing his lip. He wants to say something, I know it.  
"Katniss, there's something I haven't told you." He says hesitantly. Just what I thought, I would have asked but he got to it first.  
"What is it, Peeta?" I ask, as I reach my hand across the table to rest on his. With his free hand, he wipes his forehead, and his foot is tapping rapidly on the floor. It seems like forever for him to get his words out.  
"Before you woke up, there was a mandatory programme. We were all a bit confused because, the Quarter Quell wasn't for months. But it was the reading of the card, and well..." He pauses and rubs his chin. I raise an eyebrow, anticipating what he will announce next. I fear it will be the worst imaginable.  
"Katniss, we're going back into the arena."


	5. Chapter 5

A week later from Peeta announcing our burdened fate and my head is still spinning. I got angry after he told me. He had to control me and calm me down. I felt like I was as furious as I could possibly be, more livid than I've ever been before. I started clenching my fists and biting hard into my lip. Then my body took over itself, with this newly found strength and I picked up the table, as if it were a feather, and threw it across the room. Peeta looked terrified, but I would too if I were him, I suppose. He pleaded with me to calm down, and just looking into his glistening eyes, filled with fear, I broke down into tears. I didn't know it was possible for me to cry, but when I'm with Peeta, I feel like I'm just an ordinary human. Well, ordinary emotion wise, not in any other respect. How many other ordinary humans can pick up a heavy wooden table and throw it with no effort? Peeta came over to me, realising that I had conquered my rage and replaced it with sadness, but he still looked as scared as before. He reached to my cheek with his thumb, and wiped away a tear. His skin came away black, and we both felt as confused as each other. So my tears are black. If I were to be cut open, would my inside just be a black hole of nothing? I'm not just a living corpse; I'm a super human shell.

The reaping is next weekend, and I don't know how to feel about it. I won't die in the arena, because I can't. I'm at an unfair advantage to the other tributes, and I feel so guilty about it; knowing that they'll all be going in for no reason, because they can't win. I've half a mind to fake my death right now, not that it would actually be faking it, because I am dead. It would never work; pretending to be lifeless would be easy for me but I refrain from doing so for fear of what would become of Prim, my mother, Peeta, everyone close to me. I'm going back in the arena, and there's no fighting that. The thing that's hurting me the most, and must be worrying Peeta too, is that there can only be one victor. They won't let us get around that now, not this time. What will I do? If Peeta dies, then so do I. I become a disgusting creature that lurks in the darkness and rips out the innocent's throats. I can't lose Peeta, or that will become inevitable. There has to be a way around this, but our best bet is to take everything as it comes.

Peeta and I have decided to visit Haymitch, and tell him everything. He needs to know what has happened to me, and he needs to know that Peeta has to come into the arena with me, or everyone that I come into path with dies. I doubt he'll take it lightly. We get up early and make our way to Haymitch's house, which is never the most pleasant place to be. He is asleep on an arm chair, knife in one hand, half empty bottle in the other. We both keep our distance, and stand in the doorway so to not get too close and have an encounter with his attempts of self defence. Peeta shouts at him a few times, and he eventually stirs, the grip on his knife loosening when he sees who his visitors are.  
"Oh, finally found out the bad news, sweetheart?" He slurs, placing both of his items on the floor, though changing his mind about the bottle and picking it up again.  
"We have to talk to you about something serious, so put the bottle down?" Peeta says, and I'm glad that he took the opportunity to speak before me. Haymitch rolls his eyes and surprisingly complies, putting the bottle down on the table nearest to him. He sits back in his chair, with his arms behind his head.  
"Go on." He gestures, seeming a little too interested in knowing what we have to say.  
"You know what happened to Katniss, you know about her attack, don't you?" Peeta asks, and Haymitch nods in answer. "But you don't know what has actually happened to her. And I think there's only one way to explain, because you won't believe us any other way." Before I can stop him, Peeta strides out of the room and the searing pain in my chest begins. My ears begin to ring and I thrash frantically around the room, hoping it will stop but Peeta doesn't come back so the screaming starts. For the first time, I can see my transformation into the monster. I hold my hands out in front of me to see my finger nails splitting and growing into long, sharp talons. My head is jerked back and it feels like my jaw is being prised open by some unseen force. The pain in my mouth is unbearable as the teeth make their way through my gums, splitting my lips because they're too huge to contain. My vision blurs and I am made to rely on my sense of smell and hearing, which are both increased immensely. I can hear Haymitch panting as he struggles to get away, cowering into the corner of the room. I can smell the alcohol fumes and the stench of fear and uncleanliness that is reeking off of him. Then, out of an urge I am not in control of, I lash for him with one of my clawed hands. He yelps and begins to scream for Peeta to come back. I can now smell the metallic stench of blood coming from my hand where I came into contact with him. But it's not enough. I lunge for him again, this time with both arms and I lift him high into the air above me, baring my teeth at him with growls and snarls. I'm just about to sink my teeth into his throat when I sense Peeta's presence and I'm thrown backwards, away from Haymitch. I spiral into unconsciousness as I resume my human form.

"This is what happens when I leave her." I hear the muffled sound of Peeta's voice as I rouse from my sleep. My head is on his lap and I'm lying on the ground, the room around us is, once again, in carnage. Haymitch is clearly very shaken up, and he's keeping as far from me as he can.  
"Then you have no choice to go in with her, but what if you die?" He says, ignoring my presence, out of fear more than anything else.  
"He won't." I interrupt. Both men stare at me in confusion, everyone in the room knows that Peeta has to die. "I don't know how we're going to get around it, but I can't die. And if Peeta dies, then I turn into that thing."  
"Then we have a serious situation here then, don't we?" Haymitch says, and I don't think even he knows how we're going to do this. The games can only have one victor, and seeing as I can't die, it will have to be me, but if Peeta has to die, then I'll turn into a carcass, and we can't let that happen, for anyone's sake. Then Haymitch looks as if he's thought of something that we've all missed, and I can't believe I've been so stupid to not think of it.  
"You heal when you get hurt, right?" Haymitch asks me, and I nod in reply. "Then what you need to do, is get one of the other tributes to kill you, I mean, attack you in a way that you can survive. Slit your throat, cut off your head, anything like that. Then when you heal, the Capitol will pull you out, because the last thing they want is a super human meddling with the natural playing of their games." It seems fool proof, all except for one thing.  
"But if they pull me out, what about Peeta? I still can't be without him." I say, and Haymitch rubs his chin as he tries to think of a way to get past the major obstacle.  
"Unless Peeta poses as the healer." He says at last, and now it seems as if our plan can't fail. If I'm supposed to be dead, and Peeta can heal, we'll definitely both be pulled out. I just have to make sure I show them what happens when Peeta and I are apart, just to scare them further.  
"Snow will keep us as prisoners though, what about that?" Peeta says, but I think that Haymitch has had an answer planned for that question for a long time.  
"Not if he wants an uprising."

We leave Haymitch's house feeling more apprehensive than we did when we arrived. Our plan seems as though it could potentially work, but we'll have to wait until the day comes and it's sprung into action. Eight days until the reaping, but we both know what's coming. All we have to do is wait.


	6. Notice

I will not be continuing this fanfiction unless it starts to gain a little more interest. I'm a very dedicated and passionate writer and it is extremely depressing when you put so much effort into something and it is not appreciated.

So unless I get 10+ reviews, this story will be left unfinished.  
I'm sorry to those of you who are loyal fans of it.


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